


Burn Your Fire For No Witness

by untropicalisland



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, canon-typical trent bullshit, eadwulf, iirc i used both in another fic but well...again here we are, spoilers through episode 129, would love if that funky wizard's name had a consistent spelling in fandom but here we are
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-22 23:28:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30046458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/untropicalisland/pseuds/untropicalisland
Summary: Astrid and Eadwulf consider their next steps, the morning after in Nicodranas
Relationships: Astrid & Eodwulf & Caleb Widogast, Astrid & Eodwulf (Critical Role)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Forgiven/Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid and Eadwulf have a private talk in Nicodranas the morning after they let the Mighty Nein go

It is early in the morning when Eadwulf knocks very softly on her door in the house in Nicodranas, in a pattern they’d established nearly two decades prior, and Astrid opens it.

“Can I come in?” he asks just as quietly. She nods, and leads him in. It’s a simple room, with just a bed, a desk, a chair, and a small dresser for necessities. He sits at the desk as she takes her own seat on the bed, where she’d been lying, staring at the ceiling as it slowly brightened in the summer dawn, for the gods knew how long.

“Did he believe you?” he asked.

“I still can never tell,” she replies numbly. “At least they are hidden from him.” She looks up and runs a hand through hair messy from her tossing and turning. “It could be he went back last night to try to gather more from the asylum, or consult with Ludinus, or smooth things over with the Marquis about doing all this in a border city. Entirely, well, not innocent, but the usual...disappointment.”

Eadwulf lowers his eyes in sympathy.

“You made the right call. You always do,” he says after a moment.

“I know he suspects me. He must.” She looks up at Eadwulf. “I told Bren more than just about the necklaces.”

Eadwulf nods at her to continue, and Astrid gives a ragged sigh.

“He just asked for help against detection, and what we knew of their time in the north. But I told him…” she feels tears rising, and she is too exhausted to fully fight them down, “I told him it would not be an inopportune time, now. To do what he wishes to do.”

Eadwulf rises and locks the door tightly, checks and closes the windows, and then sits down again on the bed next to her, not quite touching, until she leans her head against his shoulder.

“Do you think he will?” he finally asks, barely above a whisper.

“He will now,” she says hoarsely, her voice beginning to break. “Now that someone’s family is involved. I don’t even know what I meant to do - I gave him what I could, for Vergesson, but I knew the risk. And I told him about it! But I didn’t realize how he would take it, or if - we don’t really know him that well anymore, Wulf.”

Eadwulf puts an arm around her at that, though his eye is still trained on the door. “Do you think he’ll survive the fight, then?” he says.

Astrid freezes against him. It is not inspiring, she thinks, in the dry, unemotional part of her mind that she has often taken pride in cultivating, that her only true confidant has become so willing to explore the possibility of failure.

“I couldn’t say,” she says. “There is power, and then there is the application of it.” She clears her throat and pulls a little away to look at Eadwulf, though her shoulders are still slumped. “He has his friends, but I no longer know what form the strike will take, now that it is no secret. Will we have fighting in the streets of the capital like there were in the past?” She stops before she asks the next question on her lips. _Would it be so bad if we did?_

Eadwulf looks grave, and fingers the symbol he wears around his neck. When he speaks, it is so quiet Astrid can barely hear it.

“There’s more, Astrid. Something you are not telling me. And I understand if you cannot, but this is likely our only opportunity to discuss it. Before the storm.” He wipes away one of her tears with his thumb as he puts a hand under her chin - slowly, and gently, but she is still made to meet his eyes.

Astrid blinks but sets her jaw.

“Yes. I...do not know how much of his will is his own now.” Eadwulf pulls back and immediately sits up straighter, his gaze becoming more intent.

“If you will recall, once, a few years ago, I told you that I met with Vess for some additional consultation in the particulars of my own research. What she did not know is I had just come from a small mission, and I was still able, for a few moments, to see through illusions.”

She watches as Eadwulf rapidly puts the pieces together. “You think he pursues the same knowledge she did?”

“It seems unlike him, but,” Astrid swallows hard again, “as I said, we don't know him that well anymore. He has read her book, to say the least. I was hard-pressed to find out much about Vess’s research without raising alarm. She seemed in control of her faculties, and he is not as marked with those eyes as she was, but then, he too pursues something in the north and we don't know what exactly happened to her.”

“So how do you think we should help? Or should we?”

Astrid puts her head in one hand and tries to think through the anxiety, the fuzziness of two nights with little sleep.

“I don’t know where they went. If he...can get back from it. And I assume if they do he still will wish to finish his business in Eiselcross, and they did get the necklaces. Which means one way or another, you and I should be prepared for a very bad week. Master Ikithon will be, ah, displeased regardless, and the news we get-"

She stops mid-sentence as she hears the message, a loud and incongruously bouncy, but familiar whisper in her mind. Relief hits her like a physical thing, and she leans against Eadwulf again for support.

“Astrid, don’t answer if you are with, you know. Caleb said he is very very sorry, and also thank you, and also that he will - “

The message cuts off, but at least they made it. At least her friend saw what she did.

“I did not get the ending of that. I will...try to contact him soon, if I am able.” She pauses for a long moment. “He does not need to be sorry.”

There is not a new reply.

Astrid manages a soft laugh. “We have got to have someone teach him to send messages. His friend is...But no mind. It worked. They are alive at least. I don't know if we'll get much more than that from him."

“So we wait?” says Eadwulf.

“We wait.”

He blows a long breath out, then rises, clasping her on the shoulder. "Try to get some rest. Just a few hours. I'll cover for you as much as I can."

She nods in gratitude as he leaves, before getting back into her bed and bringing the covers over her head.


	2. Weal & Woe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next part of Eadwulf's morning

Eadwulf has grown to enjoy Nicodranas over many years of brief visits, and today he sits at his favorite cafe, eating a flaky pastry full of cinnamon and nuts, and drinking the small, spiced, very strong cup of coffee. He is mindful, following the conversation he had with Astrid, that this is probably the last quiet morning he will have for some time, after having avoided their third companion. He hopes she sees the note he left, that Astrid had stayed up late attempting to track their quarry and should be left to rest into the late morning.

The day is warm and sunny although it is still fairly early, and it is with reluctance that with a strange and practiced gesture he sprinkles a small pinch of powdered silver mixed with talc into the dregs and drinks the bitter mix in one final gulp, then rises from the small outdoor table to run his sole errand. He should be back at the house within an hour or so, if his story is to hold.

The temple to the Raven Queen is at the north side of the city, near the entry leading back to the road into the Empire. It is well kept but small in comparison to many of the others - the primary worshipers are, like him, Dwendalians in the city for business or diplomacy. The natives of Nicodranas prefer the banned gods of chance and freedom, and when they do visit the temples near the northern road they tend to patronize anyone but his deity.

He supposes it makes sense, for in Nicodranas winter doesn't seem real, and no one here talks much about death.

The temple is silent as he enters. He’s been here before, and knows the rector in passing, and that no one lives in the church. The windows here are a translucent red, and the bright light coming in from outside are still dim. Eadwulf walks to the platform on which rests the altar, unadorned but for a black velvet cloth edged with silver stitching. He glances throughout the pews, everywhere, the spell he cast at the cafe revealing no one in hiding. 

He pulls a few rods from his pocket. Polished bone with careful marks, they gleam faintly in the red light around him. He closes his eyes for a moment and shakes his head.

“I am doing this prematurely,” he admits to the empty room, and his whisper carries from the altar so he moves to kneel among the pews instead. It should make no difference to the one he calls upon whether he stands at the head of the temple, or where the common worshipers sit. He hopes he will hear anyone enter, or at least that if he does not, they will similarly be unable to hear him.

“Matron,” he begins in Zemnian - unlikely to mask his intentions from any who might watch but it feels right to use his native tongue for this - “I trust in your destiny for me. Long I have thought I knew what it was. But the past month has led me to believe the path you mean me to walk is not as I had supposed.”

“I intend to contact my old friend and offer my aid. It is a selfish choice, for if he is successful, this will help my own standing, and if he fails...I believe things will not improve for me, until, perhaps, the day I enter your realm.”

He pauses for a moment. He had not said those thoughts out loud, ever, not to Astrid nor alone in worship. It does not feel comfortable to say them, but the honesty of them cannot be denied.

“But he has shown himself to be unpredictable. Erratic. Disorderly. It is a dangerous choice, in addition to being self-interested. I cannot say if I can trust him, and I have no means of addressing my concerns. I suspect Astrid and myself will not be sent to track him down again.” At this he glances around the room again, but it is still empty. “Or perhaps we will, for we have certainly proven what we will do; but then, I am not the boy I was half a life ago, or even the man I was when you first took notice of me, and you have taught me to draw a more discerning line in the sand.” He places a hand on his collarbone to feel the small feather pendant he always wears as he speaks.

“So if I do this, will the results be favorable?” He takes one last look around the chapel before softly rolling the bones on the floor where he kneels.

His heart sinks when he sees one with a deep, neat 'x' cut into it facing upwards, until he sees one as well beneath the pew in front of him, with a simple outline of a circle.

“Well,” he says, switching to Common. “I suppose it was never going to be a simple answer.”

Eadwulf softly rises, and whispers a standard prayer to the Raven Queen where he stands, before exiting and blinking his eyes against the bright light reflecting off the buildings of Nicodranas. He begins to flick his wrist and then stops himself. He should be prepared; he should be facing this week at his best, difficult as it might be, and certainly he shouldn’t take a drink before this. The Matron of Ravens might not have not taken that into consideration, although, he admits to himself, it would be fair of her to do so.

He leans against the outside wall of the temple, in the yard, instead, and takes out his spellbook to hide his face and to think about what to say.

“Caleb,” he begins, finally, “When you return to finish your business, you may call upon Astrid and me. We will not let you down again.”

He hears nothing for a moment, and then a tight response in Zemnian. “I will take it under consideration. I know...what risks you took in Nicodranas. Thank you.”

Eadwulf puts the book away and walks back towards the cafe. Another coffee, and a tea to bring back for Astrid, who has a hatred of bitter drinks. He is nearly there when a voice speaks to him, and his stomach immediately grows cold in the warmth of Nicodranas.

“Eadwulf - I see from your note you have gone out. When you return to the house please meet me. Alone. We will let Astrid rest.” Eadwulf forces himself to remain calm in the midst of the market, and responds carefully.

“Yes, Master Ikithon. I have just gone out to the temple and for breakfast. I will be there in a few minutes.”

He quickens his pace, his hand tightly gripping the pieces of bone within his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title comes from the Augury spell, which is what he casts here.

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the album by Angel Olsen which in turn takes it from the song White Fire; that and Forgiven/Forgotten (title of the first chapter) off the same album are excellent Blumenthal Trio songs.  
> Every time we see these two they get more complicated, and I cannot wait to see them again, but for now, here's what they may be up to.


End file.
